The Power of the Harmoniously Combined

Tag Archives: grieving

This is a rough draft. I cleaned it up a bit; but I also wanted to give other writers a glimpse into how I arrive at my ideas and put them together in a flow. I am nowhere NEAR perfect at this – if perfection even exists – but I strive to come ever nearer to that ideal of perfection through continuous self-examination of both myself and my work.

I desire not only to share my thoughts, stories, poems, experiences and inspiration on a blog; but also I crave being a well-known and respected author, such as Piers Anthony (Fantasy, Science Fiction) Isaac Asimov (Many, many fields), Zig Zigglar (Sales), Lee Child (Best known for his REACHER series about a a former MP with military detective training, who continually calls upon a set of devastating martial arts moves and lightning-quick reflexes….think the latest version of Sherlock Holmes, only much taller, stronger and built like a tank!), Herman Hesse (A very controversial German writer who’s main audience seems to be young adults and teenagers ready for a different viewpoint – my two favorites being, “Siddhartha” and “Demian”) and the latest author and public speaker for which I have great respect: Scott Berkun (“Making Things Happen: Mastering Project Management” – a book, warm, witty and relatively free of annoying technical jargon. But my favorite work of his has to be (“MINDFIRE: Big Ideas for Curious Minds” – a book which he self-published in order to ensure getting his message across with little to no censorship.)

Eventually I hope to be able to tell a story, write a poem, or detail instructions, with the pace, imagination, and apparent ease with which these master weavers of the word, have managed to do on such a consistent basis.

I am convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt, that YOU (Yes…I’m talking to YOU, reading this right now!) may become anything YOU want, as long as YOU are willing to look at yourself with fresh eyes every day; and one of an Artist’s greatest strengths is to be able to listen to constructive criticism and really hear what the other person is trying to communicate. Based on the main 12 astrological personality types – I feel that gaining feedback from each type, gives a well-balanced viewpoint of the various psychological types in humanity, from which to work with in forming your own communication.

In the future, I hope to incorporate an inner circle of those friends who I feel most strongly embody the positive characteristics of each of the 12 psychological types. For now, I will have to make do with imagining a critic from a second and third perspective, just as Leonardo Da Vinci did in his time, when attempting to learn how to better his communication skills and better his relationships.

[Give Quick Overview HERE]

1) Introduction A glimpse behind the writer Some of his favorite reads and authors2) Table of Contents

Story3) First Keystone Decision

Move from Denver to Boulder Story Problems Benefits Humor Summing up 4) Second Keystone Decision : Common to all human beings

Sleep Mazlow’s Hierarchy of Needs Picture of Pyramid from Wikipedia Order of My Day Tie in with Keystone Habits

5) Sum Up6) What’s in store in the near future:

Physical and Written Reminders you can call upon in order to enhance the speed, and cement the new habits you are attempting to establish in your life7) Thank You8) Apology for Not Being Able to Answer Comments or Questions on this Blog (Life is very Busy at the Moment9) Email address where I CAN be accessed10) Credentials11) Tags List
—————–

When I was living out of “Step 13”, a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center in Denver, Colorado – I enjoyed strolling down to the local McDonald’s every morning, located on the 16th Street Mall, because it was a place where I could go inside away from the elements, not be bothered too much, and gather my thoughts. While there, I would stand in line to get several breakfast sandwiches, two cherry pies (because let’s face it – they were only 49 cents each…might as well get two, right?) – And I would top it all off with a coffee that I could refill as many times as my heart desired. This was a negative life-impacting habit that I needed to get control of – and quick!

I kept track of my receipts, and was horrified to find out that I was spending more than $100 on fast food per month! Not only was it costing me financially; but it was costing me my health, as well. But I couldn’t stop. I had will power; but it was more like a candle flame which flickers and dances depending on the strength of the wind; than a steady resolve of iron. It wasn’t constant. I could be swayed by most of my smaller desires. You might have applied the term, “addict” to me, and you wouldn’t have been far from the truth. The truth was, as much as it might hurt to admit it, was that I was a slave to my desires and habits. I didn’t truly control my life. My mind was not my own. My decisions were not really decisions, but rather impulses which I justified and rationalized at the moment, in order to get what I wanted in the short term; even if I knew, on some level, that in the long term, it would be detrimental.It’s interesting how many people believe that they are making choices, when in reality they are slaves to their petty desires. I believe this results from a scattering of consciousness.

And so, even had I been capable of completely avoiding that particular McDonalds; there were half a dozen other fast food places that I would eventually be drawn to, right down the block. Realizing that I needed to have a ‘dry’ period where I could detox for a couple of weeks from the harmful effects of that particular food and drink, and establish better habits, I tried to think up a creative way to solve the problem. After writing about it and thinking it over for a few weeks, I realized that I what I really wanted to do was to move back to Boulder. A strange decision you might be saying to yourself – “If he only wanted to avoid eating at McDonald’s, why’s he gotta move all that way to a completely different city?!”. Yeah, you might be right, but just hear me out, and then decide whether I’m crazy, ok?

There were a couple of reasons for that decision. The biggest reason is that it would solve a bunch of issues at once: The first observation I made, was that I needed my support groups back…Carriage House, Friends, Nightly Dinners, Deacon’s Closet – a clothing bank, and MHP – regularly scheduled sessions for emotional and mental well-being. I liked the clean air coming off of the mountains to the west; and the bus system was way easier for me to navigate, than say, Denver’s. – And of course – the McDonalds would be too far for me to travel on a daily basis from where I would be staying the previous night, in Boulder. (I am generally lazy at times, and so I knew that by making it a hassle to have to bike all the way across town to the McDonalds; or if I was walking – to spend forty minutes walking just to get a coffee and a couple of sandwiches, hefting a back pack filled to the brim with books and clothes and other stuff — would persuade me to think of another, more convenient option.)

So, making the move from Denver to Boulder Colorado (A particular Keystone Action) took care of a whole host of things that I wanted to change; and it was only ONE DESCISION that I had to make to get all those benefits!

Now, a humorous side-effect to making that decision, was that I DID manage to stay away from McDonalds; only to be seduced by the much closer and friendlier Star Bucks on Pearl Street – where I got hooked on large hot chocolates every morning! My friends laugh their asses off when they hear this. It’s kinda funny, really. I moved to try and save money; but wound up paying even MORE than I expected, because each hot chocolate was maybe $3.00 or $4.00, and as you know, there is no “Dollar Menu”, at Starbucks, and you don’t get free-refills, do you?

Anyway, the above is only one example of one of my personal Keystone Thought/Action/Habit(s)

But let me see if I can come up with a Keystone Habit which most probably affects all of you; not just me. It would have to be something for which I’m pretty certain – the whole human race has in common. In order to rise to the challenge, I’ll have to fall back on something that I was taught in health class back in high school:

Ever heard of Mazlow’s Hierarchy of Needs?

Now, don’t groan…I can hear you guys. This is really cool stuff. Mazlow came up with a pyramid which depicted the various levels which a person must go through, in order to become a fully functioning and fulfilled human being. One of the lowest levels, at the base of the pyramid or triangle, is our BASIC NEEDS. In order they are: AIR, WATER, FOOD, CLOTHING (if in a cold climate), AND HOMEOSTASIS.

Well, I’m gonna quick skip over to Google and Youtube and see if Mazlow said anything about SLEEP; because that’s definitely a very important one……………….

……….And……. I’m back. I typed, “Mazlow’s Hierarchy of Needs”, in the Google Search Bar (Google’s so NEAT – don’t you think?) and up popped thousands of links in blue. There was one that took me to a Wikipedia article; and once I got there, on the right was the same picture, below, (which you should be taking a look at right about now).

Well, I was right; but I unfortunately left out SEX (one of our favorites) and ELIMINATION; as in what you do when you go to the bathroom.

To get back to the point, SLEEP is very important for us to function, and is one of the prime requisites for human beings to have a fulfilled life. Without it, or enough OF it, you can run into all kinds of problems. Chief among them is that you get very tired and sluggish and can’t move your body the right way, and your brain just refuses to work as it usually should. Other things begin occurring right around the third or fourth day without sleep…visual and auditory hallucinations, feelings of your body getting a rush of heat, a feeling of being “wired” or your nerves moving toward the breaking point where they are all over the place. You lose all sense of time. You begin to forget the easy things, like where you put your glasses (on top of your head). Paranoia. – And at the very end, insanity and eventual death. Of course that’s the extreme; but you get my point – You need your sleep. You need the right amount of it, uninterrupted; and you need to have a feeling of safety when you lie down and close your eyes.

The choice of when to go to bed, for most adults, is entirely up to them. I know that when I was a kid; I chose to go to hit the mattress as late I could get away with! My dad had to bribe me with Baskin’ Robbins, once, just to get me to climb the stairs and turn in, and STAY there! But like I said, most people, get to choose their own sleep patterns.

For myself, I found that it is best if I go to sleep around 12:00 or 1:00 in the morning. There are many reasons for this, but the main one is that it sets up the following day, and opens up opportunities for me to better myself and get all that I need to get done before the end of the evening.

I’ll run you through how I made the decision (and I use that term loosely, because I’m still working at it – maybe I’ll have to bribe MYSELF with ice cream, huh? And you’ll get to see the SYNERGY that this particular Keystone Habit sets up for all other thoughts, actions and habits that I would like to build.

First, I’ll outline the early part of my day from the time I wake up, till the time when I walk out the door in the afternoon:

I get up around 6-8 in the morning (this is my ideal intent; though it doesn’t always happen that way)I wash the dishes, first, so that while doing my other stuff, they have time to dry.I make a bowl of fruitI pull out plastic bags of fruit and/or vegetableswhich I prepared all at once the night I got back from grocery shopping: Blueberries, Strawberries, Kiwi, Pineapple, Peaches, Mango, Blackberries, cucumbers, zucchini, squash, red/yellow/green/orange peppers, spinach (torn up with fingers), mushrooms, and purple cabbage (not at all, an exhaustive list. I prepare a bowl of fruit throwing in as many colors of the rainbow as possible. Followed by mixing in crushed walnuts; and then drizzle it with honey after eating a spoonful of Coconut Oil for my joints and for Alzheimer’s.

Next, I fill up a large, plastic cup with tap water, and take both the cup and the bowl of fruit into the bathroom with me…(But, I need to get in the habit of drinking filtered water.)

I take my bath, and set the timer on my stove, (sometimes twice), for about 40 minutes.

While in there, I’m reading my Massage Anatomy and Physiology Text Book that I got from a second-hand store for two or three dollars.I’m drinking water from a large plastic cup. Glass shatters. And sometimes I’m clumsy with my left elbow – knocking things over.I’m eating that bowl of fruit, which I just made in the kitchenWhen the timer rings, I set everything aside, pull the curtain in, and drain the bath water.I’ll take a shower to get rinsed off.

Once dried off, I pull on sweat pants, preparing for relaxing the body and nervous system with yoga, in order to create the ideal conditions for a calm body for meditation.
I like to light incense and set the mood by walking slowly around my apartment in a clockwise direction, setting the intent that I am cleansing the air and the space in which I live and protecting myself against any malevolent forces or spirits which might decide to attack me psychologically, energetically, or spiritually, while opening myself up to the universe or god in my particular style of meditation.
I start off with THE 5-Tibetans, moving slowly and purposefully into my own, unique style of Yoga which I created just for me over time.
Followed by 60 rotations of Kundalini Spine Twists. They might be called something else, but that’s what I call them.
Followed by kneeling meditation for 15 minutes.
Followed by specific mind concentration exercises.
Followed by visualization of how I want my life to turn out in the future; and who I would like to become.
Then I get up, and put away the dishes which are now dry, wipe down the stove, the counters, and the sink, and faucet. Then dry all of it with a soft towel.

As you can see, without my having to go any farther – you can sense the importance of getting to sleep at the right time; for if I were to get up at, say, 12 or 3 in the afternoon, then most of my day would be gone by the time I got done with those things which bring me balance for the rest of my day.

Thus, the time which I go to sleep is extremely important to the how many things I am able to accomplish the next day; and even the order in which I might accomplish them.Therefore, sleep, for me…is defined as a Keystone Habit. – One which unlocks the doors, and prepares the road I will travel while uncovering other necessary thoughts, actions and habits.

Well, that’s it for this installment of “SYNERGY”.

Next time we’ll be taking a look at how we can set up both physical and written reminders, which will enhance the speed and effectiveness of our attempts at establishing better habits for ourselves, and eliminating ones that no longer serve our needs. As always, I will be detailing my current methods which I’m playing with, which in time, should lend to creating a synergistic and harmonious personal power with which I will construct my own life.

Thanks for reading,
Yours Truly in Loving Spirit,

I should smile more, here, huh? *smile*

If you would like to get in touch with me with comments or questions, then don’t hesitate to email me at this address: knavelylovesynergy@gmail.com. I reserve this email address just for replies to my blogs. I will attempt to be timely in my own response, because I care about reaching out and creating a world which our grandchildren’s grandchildren would cherish and take care of. If I judge the email to be less than that of high character, I reserve the right to refuse to respond. So please, be kind and considerate to the writer, and he will, in turn, be kind and considerate to you!

Below is an attempt to lend clarity to the boy I was, and the man I am becoming, in order to give a window into why I so strongly hold Integrity of one’s Character above all else in life.

I have striven to be as brief and clear as I can; but as a fairly new writer (how much could I have really done in 24 years, anyway?) — There are bound to be hiccups in the flow of the writing; and I will have left out some parts. However, I have sensed a growing curiosity of what lay aback the black and white of the words I have recently typed. We all relate to stories. We all seek to bond in some way with the one another. That’s why we like movies and books with good character development and great acting. We desire that human connection. So, even if the facts are not entirely precise in their presentation…know that I have given great thought and care to the impression that they will leave you with. The individual facts of the story are not so important, as the overall IMPRESSION or ESSENCE with which they convey those facts. When you take apart the human body and look at each piece separately, you cannot come away with the awe-inspiring beauty and elegance that you get from just a simple or cursory glance at the finished product. The elegance, love and wisdom behind the synergy of an all powerful and inter-connecting intelligence, spells itself over you almost like an aroma of the finest quality. The stories are but stories. I think that we – including me – take them way too seriously. The stories are merely to illustrate a certain unique perception of our connection to every single thing in existence, and the essence or glue which binds those perceptions, (or a filtering of consciousness due to a localized reality).

Therefore, read this with the overall picture or message or intent which was in my mind, and not in order to pick out faults of the writer, whether the mechanics of the writing or the views of the writer. I have many faults. Of this, I am supremely aware. If you read it with an open mind and compassionate heart, you may see the underlying nature of yourself peeking through; and if so, I will have done my job for the time being.

Thank you for your presence and your love, and enjoy!

I am a 34 year-old United States Marine with no siblings who is no longer ‘active’, and I go by the name of Nate, for now, but was christened, David Lee Madison, Jr., after my father, who was a “Sr”. I’ve lived in foster homes. I’ve been in special education classes when I was in elementary school. Our family, my father and my step mother, our cats and rabbits, and myself, all moved around quite a bit, while living in Virginia. Later I flew out by myself to go live with my fundamentally religious aunt and uncle. I stayed there for about a year, on the west coast, overlooking some cherry trees, out into sunset after sunset, slicing it’s way so beautifully toward our home at the end of every day. Our mobile home was situated between Mount Hood, Oregon, and Washington State. We lived with one very feisty and demonic cat, named Eidelvies, (pronounced, “AY’ DUL VICE”(This may be a butchering of that cat’s name, but I don’t care…that cat can go to hell for all I care! – joking, of course) He had one blue eye and one brown eye. It was a bit crowded in there, as we also had two shelties.

There was no television, no radio, no toys, and certainly nothing that you would see in a typical suburban home, or an apartment. Instead, we lived in that mobile home up on cinder blocks, with a piano, a wood stove, some books, a small, square dining room table and three wooden chairs, a bunk bed in my room, and maybe a regular bed in theirs. – And of course, there were quite a few bibles. Outside, was a sizeable stack of firewood which rested against a brick-red painted porch with lattice the same color. The dogs roamed freely most of the time, and you could wander down the hill, through the various orchards, toward the edge of the cliff, overlooking the Gorge, where early on Saturdays and Sundays, you could just make out the glint coming off the boards of the windsurfers, way below to your right.

I was there maybe a year or so, and then came back to live with my dad and step mom, who had, by then, moved to Rutland, Vermont. I went to 8th grade there. – And then I moved into the newly constructed Rutland High School in June of 1994 as a freshman.

I spent about nine months up in Bangor, Maine, in a dorm on the campus of Penobscott Job Corps, studying carpentry at the “Home Builder’s Institute”; and then signing up for the Marines. I took my ASVAB for the armed services and was very surprised to score a 98 out of a possible 99, and was assured that I could get any job that I wanted, because, as the guy explained to me, “That score shows that you’re smart enough to work on those nuclear submarines in the Navy if you really wanted!” I didn’t much think so, not having the confidence back then which I’ve been working on lately; but the guy was adamant. I wound up with an MOS designation of a “3521 Diesel Mechanic”. I got out two years later, not wanting to continue, and feeling like a complete failure among other things; but I survived the experience and even fondly remember some parts as being rather pleasant.

Several things happened all at once while I was making a living as a server at TGI Fridays in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania (when I got out of the Marines, my dad had once again decided to move). The first thing major complication, was my step mom began suffering from several strokes. The neurologists said that she had had four similar strokes in the same frontal region of the brain – where judgment calls are made. She was placed in a care home after being released from the hospital. Her sister came in and took control of the power of attorney which had up until then, allowed us to survive in a $700 a month, two bedroom apartment in Pottstown, Pennsylvania. When, my dad discovered that he shared a genetic condition which predisposed him to his mother’s auto-immune and nervous system disease – Mulitple Sclerosis, and that he was exhibiting the symptoms from some environmental or emotional trigger – he took it in stride. He was about 48 years old, attending nursing school and getting mostly straight A’s, while holding down a strenuous physical labor-type job at Blommer Chocolate Factory. All that went away while he tried to convince the doctors that he wasn’t just dreaming the condition up; but was really starting to deteriorate from the disease. Their lack of compassion and a bunch of red-tape, allowed the disease to get some momentum going; and by the time they decided to do anything about it, his physical and mental condition had considerably worsened in just a year’s time. I remember when he could out run me and out think me. It wasn’t long before that was no longer the case and I began to see him more and more frequently leaning on a cane and complaining of pain in his him. He began to slur his words and forget things I had told him not just a few days ago. I had to watch, powerless to stop, a proud, intelligent, highly creative and competitive man with a the spirit of a lion, get broken by a deterioration of his nervous system. This killed me. I’ve always been rather empathic, and tend to feel other people’s pain; but in time, I had to shut that part of myself off, so that I could continue to function. (I’ve since figured out how to ‘turn’ it back on, with the help of meditation and contemplation; and because I wanted to regain the connection I had as a kid to the world as a whole.)

As time passed and stress mounted, I began to increasingly have trouble with my attitude toward work as a server. I dreaded coming in; and I feel that my subconscious part of myself finally decided to make the decision that the conscious part of me was afraid to: A few weeks later, continuously worrying about my dad and what he would do since he could no longer work (I was worried that he would wind up homeless…and I need not have worried because his girlfriend took him into her home and took care of him the best she knew how), I made the mistake of coming in on the wrong day, and was fired. I had been trying to get people to give me extra shifts that they didn’t want so that I could cover the bills. What then ensued for nearly six years, was on again, off again, life of living in shelters, warming centers, couches, and on the streets and in tunnels, and rooftops. My main occupation became learning very quickly how to survive in almost any condition. You can’t ever prepare for this. Not even my Marine Corps training could; but it helped with my mindset. I continued to improve upon my meditation so that I could bring balance to my mind. The last thing I wanted was to have some organization from which I was receiving aid, to declare me incompetent to live my own life. This is a very real possibility and nearly happened a few times. What one does not realize, is that when you go into a building that is there to serve the homeless, you are, in effect, inviting them to become you caregiver or guardian. If you “misbehave”, then they have the power and authority to put you into what is termed a, “72-Hour Hold”, whereby your mental condition is assessed in a hospital-type environment, and if you are seen as unable to function in normal society, certain of your rights as a “citizen” are revoked. Freedom is one of those rights. The freedom to make your own choices based on your own sound judgment. Some stranger who is paid $10-$30 per hour is given charge of evaluating your state of mind. I find this laughable, because most often, this person has no clue of the context of the situation. Therefore, how can they possibly make evaluations and value judgments as to your normal state of mind and whether that has been compromised? In body language, they call this a “baseline”. In order to know whether someone is lying or sending “incongruent” signals from those that they should be in that particular situation, you must know how they act and react in everyday, non-stressful situations. You must compare the two in order to draw meaningful conclusions. Unfortunately, for some individuals, this is not the case; and they get some kind of label; and often are pushed or coaxed into taking medication to fix the “problem”.

Since 2008, right around Thanksgiving, I have lived outside for several winters in Boulder, CO. I learned that my mom had lung cancer a few years back, so I decided to leave my job, buy a $500 car from my savings, and make a trip out to Illinois to attempt to take care of her. On the way there I incurred a fine which I could not pay while driving the interstate highway, almost out of Colorado. The officer wrote it in such a way that I could not read what it said; and therefore could not respond to the charges. The fine stuck and fees were attached. This eventually led through a series of cause and effect chain relationships to the result of the loss of my vehicle. It is now 2014, and I am still paying court fines for fees from a failure to change an Illinois license plate to that of a Colorado one. This occurred, because after paying the fine and fees, in good faith, from a “failure to yield to an emergency standing vehicle” on the highway – I did not have enough money to take care of getting my license plate changed! This, from about 2010, when I first discovered my mom had cancer. Afterward, when I no longer had a car to sleep in, I slept where ever I could manage – where the cops would not give me a ticket. I still managed to get a ticket when I was turned away from the Boulder Shelter after losing a “lottery”, and upon learning that a warming center would not be open that night. I made a decision against my better judgment, to accompany a few other homeless guys to a property which they swore they had permission to sleep on. It was out in the woods near a ditch and a few hundred yards away from main traffic, so I assumed that we were ok there. During the night, some guys continued to draw attention to them selves by carrying on a loud conversation, and in the morning two female cops were issuing tickets. It was cold enough that the “illegal” sleeping bag that I had, was stiff from frost. I was not in trouble for sleeping outside. I was in trouble for utilizing what Boulder law has termed, “cover”. Clothing is not considered cover, but anything other than clothing, such as blankets, sleeping bags; and I’ve even been told, tree branches, is considered cover. It was cold enough to freeze to death that night; but because I used a certain amount of common sense to survive – I was told to appear in court. I did. – And a Lawyer, David Harrison, took up my “camping” case, pro-bono. He then, got me in touch with ACLU – American Civil Liberties Union, because the case against me was deemed, in their eyes, unconstitutional. Both David Harrison and the ACLU saw my case as one that could set a precedent in law. If they could find me not-guilty by virtue of being forced into a situation which was unconscionable, and I therefore had to make as they termed it a “lesser evil” decision which any normal human being would have made given the unique set of circumstances; then they could set into motion protections against homelessness abuse, which made it legal to prosecute those who were simply doing all they knew how in order to survive in a society which punished those who had no or little means of making a dollar. In effect, homelessness had become a crime; and the silly, yet awful response of law enforcement was to further punish these people by taxing them with court fees which they call “fines”.If your son or daughter, wife or husband, boy friend or girlfriend, or mother or father were out on the streets – would you convict them for doing what they could to survive, when society had made it nearly impossible for them get shelter? In essence, this is what the city of Boulder has done countless times. They are making homlessness and the necessary actions which have been taken in order to avoid it — a crime.

If this isn’t enough, I’ve been tased six times in a row, by the police in a misunderstanding, maced or pepper sprayed, and had a net placed over my face for simply trying to help my friend who had been beaten up and was lying on his back in the middle of a sidewalk. The manager of the Pub where we were playing pool told him that he didn’t have enough money on his card to pay for our drinks. We all tried to work out something with the guys. I offered to wash their dishes or do something else. My friend offered to leave his license, so that he would be held accountable for paying the debt. They declined and kept threatening to call the police if we didn’t pay up. I could sense that my friend felt he had few options and was going to try to run out the back door. I tried to signal him to think it over and be cool – that we could work something out. He gave them a card which he claimed was his sister’s which he let me know didn’t have the necessary money on it, in order for them to leave the room. This would present a distraction so that he could run. He did. They quickly followed, yelling and jeering, as if it were some game. I walked around the corner and was accosted by a man who grabbed me from behind. I looked into his eyes and told him to let go. I had the Marine Corps training to severely injure him by attacking with a knife hand or a palm strike to the throat, thereby crushing his larynx, and sending him to the hospital or killing him. I chose to not do this, knowing both the consequences, and only desiring to help straighten things out with my friend. After speaking calmly to him, he let my arms go and I turned to find one of the bar employees standing over my friend in between two cars with his arm raised. My friend’s head was either on the curb, or very near it. I began to move toward them, when I heard rushing footsteps from behind me. I spun around and came face to face with a police officer running with his body leaning forward, around the corner. I tried to explain things, but he yelled, “Move. Move or I’ll tase you.” I got angry. My adrenaline was already pumping and all I had wanted to do was de-escalate the violence; but then my Marine Corps Training came into play and I began reacting as a soldier might against an enemy combatant who means you physical harm. I stepped toward him and backed him up about 7 steps. In the meantime he had pulled his taser or stun gun out and was pointing it at my chest, his voice was quavering, almost as if he was scared and going through puberty. “Move or I will tase you. I mean it.” Again, I had a choice of whether or not to resort to violence. Had I stayed in the Marine Corps more than the two years and attained Corporal; perhaps I would have. Marines are not known for their restraint in bar fights and their egos are sizeable for what they have had to endure. There is a tremendous amount of pride instilled during the training, and even a culture of contempt for the civilian or other armed forces is encouraged. Despite all this, I simply stared him down wary of any threatening movement – I was not going to be the first one to engage – and when I saw that he was reluctant to attack me, I quickly ran around to the other side of my friend who was now lying on his back in the middle of the sidewalk. Soon other police officers arrived, and while I was kneeling over my friend, asking him if he was ok, I heard a female voice tell me to put my hands behind my back. I yelled back, “I’m not trying to hurt anyone; I’m just trying to help my friend.” I yelled that several times, in order to set the right intention and communicate my non-violence. The officer I had originally faced, came up behind me and put his stun gun or taser to my back. I stood up and clasped my hands as if in prayer. They kept yelling for me to put my hands behind my back and the officer tried to pull my hands apart so that he could cuff them. He could not. I kept saying the same thing over and over again. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone; I’m just trying to help my friend. But no matter how many times I said this, they continued the assault. The officer behind me placed the stun gun against my back again, in an effort to weaken me by sending electricity through my muscles, causing them to clench powerfully until, they would completely tire. But I was determined to stand my ground, for I felt that a great injustice was occurring; and I believe that injustice, no matter the source needs to be dealt with face to face – non violently if possible. When the officer’s tactics did not work, he reached around and sprayed me in the face. First in one eye, and then in the other. Since he had been in contact with me, his continuing to send electricity through me in order to make me more compliant resulted in his being the recipient of some of that electricity. I even heard another officer laughing, when the officer cried out in pain and surprise. I did not; because I have undergone some pain-tolerance. Finally, someone hit me in the legs with something very much like a flying football tackle, and while I was on the ground an officer; I’m not sure which one; but I would hazard a guess as to it being the original one I had contact with – kept placing the instrument against my back and turning on the electricity. I was struggling on the ground, at which point he placed it on my back again; but this time left it there for what seemed like an agonizingly long time. It was then that I cried out; and it was then that most of the strength left my body. At some point while on the ground, the female officer told me to turn over on my stomach; I told her that I was trying, and that is when she placed a booted foot on my body and thrust forward, flipping me over. I couldn’t see much because my eyes were tearing up from the mace or pepper spray and I had contacts in…not a good combination. I was spitting up on the ground, trying to get the burning stuff out of my mouth, and one of the officer’s – I believe the female one, put a net over my face.If you have never received this kind of treatment by “peace officers”, then you don’t have much of an idea how you might react. I never struck out at any of these officers; even though they were doing very inhumane things to me.

I have wound up physically assaulted by Boulder Police on more than one occasion. One of those times, while I was in jail, I decided against a plea bargain against the advice of some Legal Defenders, in order to secure a trial-by-jury. But that is a story for another time.

What I want to convey, here, is that when you have no money or very little; and no home of your own, you are viewed, and treated as if you are a second-class or third-class citizen. And the city can get away with doing exactly that, because you have no leverage with which to defend yourself. Your reputation is attacked. By virtue of having no money and no home, you are put in a category of someone who lazy, or violent, or has a criminal mind. The funny thing, is that this “system”, whether consciously or not, is designed to eventually turn you into a criminal, even if before you were exposed to it’s particular mode of coercion, you were a perfect, model citizen. It is much, much harder for those individuals who have taken it upon themselves, early on in their school days to question that which has been “taught” to them by the powers that be. As a kid, I had many questions. I had a gentle nature, which turned only to violence when it could see no other way of securing it’s god-given rights to peace and liberty. I was labeled, early on, as a trouble-maker. I was highly intelligent, creative, and saw a world of wonder; yet I couldn’t understand why the adults around me; and even most of the kids acted the way that they did. There was a soul inside which screamed that something was very wrong. I didn’t know HOW wrong at the time; and it was only through trying to become an individual and think for myself, when I came against the well-oiled machine of the ‘system’. This made me dangerous. I was dangerous, because if I could think and act differently, it was possible that I could persuade others to do the same; and the power of the ‘system’ depends on fear, and ignorance of your rights.

I took two tests in high school to measure my brain. In both I was placed almost squarely in the middle. Left vs. Right Brain; and Concrete/Sequential and Abstract/Random. This means that I tend to think wholistically. It also means that my mental state is mostly balanced, except for those times when there is a spike in my emotions – which are simply electro-chemical impulses PRODUCED by a master gland in my brain. Since I’ve discovered meditation, I have slowly, and over a great deal of time, learned to more and more re-wire the connections in my brain or the neural pathways of how I used to deal with stress. This translates to a fact that even when I am placed or place myself in an extremely chaotic environment, where normally, (any normal person) might have a breakdown, or resort to the limbic brain – the Freeze, Fight or Flight mode that we ALL have been genetically programmed, over millions of years to respond with — I still, am able to respond in an almost tranquil manner, with a calm and centered mind and emotional set, more and more often, lately. This means that I am able to function in very stressful situations. – Situations, that even some managers of companies, police officers, and many other supposedly well-balanced individuals would have a nervous breakdown from. One of the keys is that I have already had some complete nervous breakdowns. This is something which the military is highly aware of. They use it extensively in their basic training to create soldiers which are able to re-act in war-time/war-like environments, in such a way and to such a degree of accuracy, that they are able to continuously make razor-edged and split-second decisions with a very low percentage of error. For example, less people get killed, and the unit or team accomplishes their mission, because of the fluid communication and the wise decisions which have to be made time and time again by those tested to their breaking/failure point. It is this testing to the breaking/failure point, and then the resetting of mind, emotion and intent, which sets those who succeed massively and those who just scrape by in life. Schools do not teach this. They teach the opposite. They teach you to be afraid of failure. They build a contempt of failure and strivance toward perfection through their inadequate grading system. Teamwork on tests and quizzes, for the most part, is deemed to be cheating. Yet, in real life, we are not so much graded on whether we, as individuals know the material; but on how we can work together and apply what, we as a community have learned. I have attempted to incorporate this new understanding into the way I approach the challenges in my life.

And, when I was in the military, I was anything, BUT calm, cool and collected. I was rash, angry, frustrated, afraid, lonely, and insecure; however, AFTER I left the Marines, my real education began, and I began to consciously form my own CHARACTER based on the values I cherished when I was a child, and some that I have been exposed to since then, and have embraced because of their alignment with what I feel to be true in my soul.

I have mounting hospital bills, from the lifestyle that I was trying to get out of, nearly dying from Staph Infection, in the process of getting healing from a group of Contact Improve dancers in the local area.But I stuck it all out, and finally managed to get the attention of a non-profit organization which works very hard to house homeless people. I was one of the lucky ones, and every day, I am so grateful for the voucher which allows me to live in this apartment. Without it, I would be back on the streets, without showers, proper food, and sometimes forced to sleep outside in the rain or the snow. There are shelters and warming centers, but they aren’t always open due to many factors which, at the moment, I don’t have the time or space necessary to go into in depth.

This concludes the brief (and it is brief, though it may appear long) personal history, which if you took the time to read, should help give you the context needed to understand where I’m coming from in all the articles, poetry and my choice of what to reveal of myself in the future.

If you would like to get in touch with me with comments or questions, then don’t hesitate to email me at this address: knavelylovesynergy@gmail.com. I reserve this email address just for replies to my blogs. I will attempt to be timely in my own response, because I care about reaching out and creating a world which our grandchildren’s grandchildren would cherish and take care of. If I judge the email to be less than that of high character, I reserve the right to refuse to respond. So please, be kind and considerate to the writer, and he will, in turn, be kind and considerate to you!